The Spiral
by Fireflies on a Lake
Summary: Happiness and sadness. Staying and Leaving. Hope and Despair. An endless cycle of sorrowful parting, fierce longing, and all too brief joyful reunions. The cycle of Anakin and Padme. one-shot.
**The Spiral**

 **Disclaimer:** Star wars belongs to Disney and George Lucas. I make no profit from this.

 **A/N:** First ever Anidala fic. I like this pairing, and I just wanted to try to challenge myself in writing about different star wars pairing than i usually do. its set during the clone wars.

 **Summary:** Happiness and sadness. Staying and Leaving. Hope and Despair. An endless cycle of sorrowful parting, fierce longing, and all too brief joyful reunions. The cycle of Anakin and Padme. one-shot.

* * *

 **The Dawn**

Light streams through the shutters of her transparisteel windows and directly into her eyes. Padme forces her lids shut, fruitlessly willing out the inevitable promise of the oncoming day.

It's ironic that light, a phenomenon synonymous with hope, is the cause of her woes.

She dreads the break of dawn. For dawn brings the morning. And morning brings farewell, which in turn leaves its own sorrow. Parting always leads to loneliness.

Soon Anakin will wake, depart from her chambers and she has no idea as to when she will see him again. The warmth of his body, at present, entangled with her own in their shared bed, will become nothing more than a distant memory. Her bed will be cold, and she will be consumed by fear for his well-being as he fights on some strange far off world.

But she accepts it for what it is. A tragic consequence of the one decision she will never regret. Love over duty. Her marriage to Anakin has brought more happiness into her life, than she ever thought possible.

Padme feels Anakin stir beside her, and her eyes flutter open to the sight of Anakin sleeping peacefully. His golden curls are splayed across his pillow, and in sleep his handsome features are softer. He looks younger and unburdened by the cares of this terrible ongoing war. Her heart aches at the sight as she thinks back to simpler times, when everything made sense. When right and wrong were not so blurred. When they were still innocent and unjaded by the bitter reality of this war and marital bliss was not an unkept promise.

All she can do is hold onto to some semblance of hope that they will both survive this war, and that the war will end. And then maybe, just maybe, they will be able to be together as married couples should be, not few precious stolen moments and brief interludes, but to have a happy life together. A _family_ with her husband. She longs for it with every fibre in her being.

Dawn would then be a welcome friend, and she would happily greet the sun if it meant a day spent with Anakin where he never had to leave and surrounded by the family they could create together. The future has never seemed so bleak and intangible.

As if sensing her line of thoughts, Anakin, still lost in the depths of sleep, unconsciously tightens his powerful arm her, bringing their aligned bodies closer together. She lays a hand on his taut chest, observing as the muscles contract in rhythm with his steady breathing. Light from the window shutters spills over his chest, and her hand, leaving a distinct pattern of shadows and illumination. It seems as if the light and darkness are at war with one another. The opposites that define her relationship with Anakin.

Happiness and sadness. Staying and Leaving. Hope and Despair. An endless cycle of sorrowful parting, fierce longing, and all too brief joyful reunions.

Her hand itches to reach out and caress his hair, his skin, his body. A beautiful reminder that what they share between them is worth fighting for. Of what can be. Of what will be.

But she contents herself with watching him sleep, and the knowledge that he is here with her in this moment. For he will be gone soon enough.

* * *

 **The Day**

The day is the time for pretences. She wears her mask, and dons her armour to face the real world. The world of corruption, and back-stabbing delegates.

While Anakin is rained upon by blaster fire, Padme is enclosed in a prison. A cage of glass and duracreete. The Republic Senate has become nothing more than hot bed of politicians serving their own interests and the democracy she's championed for so long is eroding more with each passing day.

Her life's work, and passion crumbling to dust before her eyes, like grains of sand blown away by the wind.

Idealism evolves into cynicism, with the knowledge that no matter how hard she tries in the Senate, she makes no difference. Every cry she makes in the Senate falls on deaf ears. No one wishes to listen to reason.

And yet despite all the changes that have occurred both within herself and the Republic, she's still a dreamer at heart, and dream she does. Of a place far from here, in the arms of her beloved husband, free from the fear that plagues her daily. The unbearable fear of uncertainty. Of not knowing whether he's alive or dead.

Life has become monotonous. A dual tedium of witnessing as democracy slips away, and waiting for Anakin to return from the frontlines.

And then there are other times, when Anakin is on Coruscant, and yet they cannot openly be together. In public they must become "Knight Skywalker" and "Senator Amidala". Terse nods, impassive faces. All formality.

It hurts, being so close to the one most dear to one's heart, and being so far away from them at the same time.

Day becomes a cruel reminder of the forbidden nature of their relationship, and how different they are from other couples.

But when no one is looking, fleeting glances are exchanged, and there is the brief brushing of her hand against his. An unspoken truth between them, and them alone.

And so she holds out for the nightfall, the time when things become most clear. When they might be able to be together once more.

* * *

 **The Dusk**

Dusk falls, hailing the night. As she glances up at the darkening sky, a patchwork of orange sunset and dark blue heavens, Padme's mind is drawn back to her childhood. When she was little she made wishes upon starlight. And so, in reverence for one of her most fondest childhood memories and a fit of desperation, she makes one now. She utters a single wish at the sight of the first star.

That Anakin comes home to her safely. She can ask for no more.

She remains on the balcony until dusk fades into the all encompassing night. It's cold outside and a frigid chill creeps into her bone marrow, and yet she lingers. She shivers as cool air bites at her skin, and she grasps her forearms in a bid to ward off the cold. Her thin gown is a poor deterrent against the chill, but she refuses to go inside.

Every night follows the same routine. She awaits his return, but he never comes. But she persists. For the hope that the stars will hear her plea, and she will be granted her one wish.

As the temperature plunges, she finally realises as she does every evening that it's an empty wish. Anakin's not coming.

It's time to go inside. Alone.

She takes one last glance at the sky, and the stars seem to twinkle down at her.

For once the night delivers.

His arms enclose her from behind, and draw her tight against him in a gentle embrace. Euphoria and heart-wrenching relief wash over her as she leans into him, his large body warm and solid against her own.

"Padme," he whispers into her neck as he places kisses on the sensitive and exposed skin of her throat.

She cannot not speak, too overcome with sudden and overwhelming emotion. Joy, melancholia and longing. But first and foremost she feels _love_. Unconditional and pure love.

Anakin's here, and _he's home_. Even if only for a night, but she's never been more grateful.

And so they linger together, in each other's arms, under the watchful stars, far from morning.

For once, in a long while there is hope.


End file.
